


moments

by ravenhairedtrickster



Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4962733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenhairedtrickster/pseuds/ravenhairedtrickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>moments during, after and before mark watney's rescue. drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Beck knows hopelessness. But not the kind of hopelessness that Mark Watney knows. It's different, more subtle. Hell, how can he feel at odds with the universe when he's been comfortably sitting in the Hermes throughout the entire ordeal. Not trapped on Mars, alone, abandoned. 

Space spans out from the edge of the airlock where he stands, perched precariously with nothing but Vogel and a line secured to his suit keeping him from floating away. He stares into oblivion for long minutes, listening to Lewis over the comm, Mars hovers before him, under them, a giant frozen desert – the MAV slowly spins into view.

Seconds turn into hours, he scrambles, the line pulls taunt, the vacuum tries to find purchase. But it doesn't matter. He fights tooth and nail to keep hold of Watney, and when Vogel has reeled them in and the airlock is at one hundred percent he can't let go.

Watney is screaming in his ear. 

“Those broken ribs really bugging you, hey,” Beck says as he slips into the physician. He strips Watney of his EVA suit with Vogel's help. His suffering is apparent. Watney's entire body is malnourished and bruised. 

Beck draws in a deep breath. They came this close to losing him. 

Watney shudders, chest heaving. A strangled noise escapes his throat, Beck looks up. 

“You got me, yeah?” Watney asks and it's now that Beck realizes he's not the only one who can't let go. Watney's knuckles are white. 

“I got you,” Beck assures. 

Tears leave streaks in the martian dirt caked to Watney's face. Beck suddenly notices the smell, rank, sour, it fills the airlock, but he finds he can't make himself care.


	2. Chapter 2

He lays beside Watney carefully, the cot barely dipping under his weight. 

“Hey,” Watney says. 

“Hey,” Beck replies. 

They fall into silence. Beck shuffles closer, Watney shifts, the gaunt muscle in his back pulling thin. It's all too visible. 

Beck hates it. 

Watney's reaches back, his hand finds Beck's hip. It slides down the back of Beck's thigh and his wrist curves as his fingers hook behind Beck's knee. He tugs and Beck follows, rolling until his nose is pressed into Watney's hair. 

“What's up,” Beck asks. It's not often Watney gets into a cuddly mood, or at least it wasn't all too usual before. 

“Nothing,” Watney says. “I just need to feel you.”

Beck nods. He presses his nose to the nape of Watney's neck, his lips find the spot between shoulder blades. He doesn't really understand what exactly Watney needs to feel but the mental toll he gets. To be alone, no, Beck has never been alone like that, but he's well aware that isolation can be damaging. 

They have no boundaries now, before it had been cat and mouse, flirting and silliness. Now Beck kisses his way down Watney's spine, trails his fingers over Watney's still-too-concave stomach. When his hand dips lower and he cups Watney through thin NASA issued sweats there's no arousal. It's okay. It'll take time for that. Still, it doesn't stop Beck from trying. 

“Sorry,” Watney murmurs, the hand that had previously been hooked in Beck's knee now on his wrist. 

“Don't apologize, stupid.” Beck chuckles against Watney's mended ribs. 

“Stupid? That's original, what happened to calling me a planthead?” 

“Died with your libido.” Beck retorts and Watney laughs. 

“I'll get it back someday,” Watney says sadly. Beck rubs his face against Watney's bony shoulder. 

“Yeah,” he replies, “you will, it'll just take some time. You've been through one hell of an ordeal.”

“You got that right doc, fucking insane ordeal.” 

Beck smiles, “You survived.” 

Watney nods and turns onto his back. He stares up at Beck. 

“I thought I wouldn't see you again,” Watney admits. “Any of you. I thought I would—”

“You didn't though.” Beck says forcefully. He can't bear to hear it out loud.

“I know.” 

“Good.”

Beck watches as Watney's eyes close. Everything melts away. The Hermes, space, Mars, the delicacy of their situation. Beck bows his head and their lips brush. Watney's eyes flutter open and Beck gives him a sheepish grin. 

“What?” Beck asks.

“You call that a kiss?” Watney challenges and his fingers find the front of Beck's shirt as he pulls him down. 

They meet a second time and Beck thinks Watney laps at him like a starving man. He smiles into Watney's mouth — he'll save that metaphor for later.


	3. Chapter 3

It's the little things that make life bearable. Watney is certain of that. TV shows, music. It kept him alive on Mars, now Beck has set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him and goddamn it's the best thing he's tasted in months. 

A cup of joe is one thing he's allowed in abundance. Well, sorta of. Beck insists on making it himself and Watney gets half a cup, black. Everything is rationed, of course, but even more so for him. His calorie intake is being adjusted slowly. 

Vomiting perfectly good NASA rations is a bit counterproductive. 

So he sips his coffee and sends smouldering looks over the table at Beck who pointedly looks at everything in the mess but him.


	4. Chapter 4

He dreams of Beck. Snippets of tiptoeing around Lewis, Beck pressed firmly against a fold in the Hab's wall. Watney kisses him, barely sparing a moment to glance at Beck's handsome flushed face, nor get lost too deeply within those ocean eyes. He kisses him furiously, half lifting Beck off the ground – 

Watney jolts awake as the Hab shudders under Mars' punishment. His reality comes crashing back down, any warmth he felt vanished with the realization. He stares morosely at the bunk above him, then out the window. 

The storm rages on and although it's 2pm it gives the illusion of night. Sand streaks by in giddy swirls, clattering against all sides of the Hab. Watney watches the alien specks of dirt dance against the window before disappearing into the dark with the next gust.

Watney crawls from the bunk with a sigh.

He raids Beck's stash of drugs, puts one of Lewis' horrible playlists on in the background and lays back down. It doesn't take long— NASA gave them the good stuff — before he's sleepily falling back into Beck's embrace, the cacophony of disco drowning the majority of everything out.


End file.
